Blondes Have More Fun
by MrzKitty
Summary: Felicity has to be a brunette for a night. Oliver hates it. Here's the fallout. Oneshot, enjoy & review! Rated K, but some minor language.


**A/N: Another one shot for you all. It was meant to be quick after the first line popped in my head as an errant thought, but...not so much once I started writing.**

**Standard disclaimer applies- no recognizable characters belong to me, enjoy at the least but please review at the most. **

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_She looks better as a blonde_, was all he could think. "She" being Felicity Smoak; his rambling, intelligent, genius, necessary (beautiful, vivacious, molded for you) and grounded...whatever she is to him. He looked down at the woman in question. Oliver couldn't decide how to describe her. Assistant didn't give her nearly enough credit for what she actually did at QC. IT specialist for the Arrow was an understatement. Logistics and glue might be a better way to describe her role there. Friend seemed the safest word, but. Anyone who ever got to see them together would not ever describe their relationship in so simple a word as friend. However, Oliver settled for that because he refused to fool himself into thinking he could ever be just a man. He would always be Oliver Queen, a man with a past; he would always be the Arrow, a man who struggled to right the wrongs plaguing his home. And that meant even friendships were dangerous, let alone romantic entanglements of any kind.

As Oliver regarded her with his intense gaze, Felicity shifted uncomfortably. The brown wig and contacts were itchy, and while her evening gown was gorgeous in it's simplicity, she felt like an awkward teenager playing dress up. Her nerves led her to start talking without thinking.

"So, do I look like I could be one of the playboy's conquests?" Felicity tried to quip, and inwardly cringed. She remembered her last foray into inquiring about Oliver's women. It hadn't been long ago that she had let her jealousy slip when asking Oliver about his island harem and if it was Fantasy Island instead of the hell she knew it full well to be. To his credit, he never said anything, but she still felt a bit of remorse for the comment. It was just...she was so angry with him about his reaction to her and Barry (which, by the way, where the hell had _he_ been?), and to accusing her of giving away his secret when she'd done nothing but protect it...she let her fear for him along with her anger at his accusation get the best of her. She lost her temper and struck back. Felicity knew the burden and guilt Oliver placed on himself, and her comment, in her opinion, was a low blow.

Oliver raised his brow at her question. She did actually look like someone the old Oliver would go for. Gorgeous, great figure, brunette, brown eyes. Perfect for the op they were getting ready to do. The problem was, he didn't like it. He in fact hated it. She was just not Felicity this way, and that idea was surprisingly disconcerting. However, she was too recognizable as a blonde and for tonight she couldn't be recognized. It could be too easy to connect his two lives if she was.

Oliver brushed aside his own memory of her dig at him when he'd come clean about Shado. They'd been arguing, and that memory inevitably led to the accompanying rebuke he'd surprisingly gotten from Barry Allen. And he didn't want to examine his very primal reaction to having Barry around, especially having him around Felicity. Even if he did have reason to be grateful he had been there.

"Oliver?" Felicity's voice carried an undercurrent of worry. She laid her hand gently on his arm, causing him to feel, as he always had, the electricity between them. The initiation of touching beyond wound care was a new thing for Felicity. Until she had hugged him after that bout with Cyrus, she'd rarely touched him. She'd let _him_ touch _her_, but it was as if she'd had a barrier preventing herself from reciprocating the everyday touches. Felicity was still careful at the office, but at the foundry it was often, almost as if to reassure herself he was really there and ok.

"Yes, you look the part. Relax, you'll do fine, Felicity." Her eyes searched his before she nodded. "You going to be ok? We'll be expected to act like a couple..."

"Oliver, as long as I look the part, we can make everything else believable." This time it was his eyes that searched hers. He would never understand her faith in him, even knowing him and his mistakes. Oliver nodded,

"Alright then, let's go to this gala. Do you have your mask?" Felicity nodded, then grinned at the irony that they had to wear literal masks for the New Years party they were attending for a potential investor that happened to be on the List. Since there hadn't been any progress or further incidents with the serum and this opportunity had presented itself, they'd agreed it was time.

"Yes, Oliver, do you?" He held up the garish mask in response, and they shared a smile. He let Diggle know they were ready, and they all headed out. They arrived at the party without incident and Felicity was introduced as Megan to maintain her cover. She'd shifted her voice to make it less recognizable, and things were going smoothly.

Unfortunately for Oliver, they were going _too _smoothly. The way Felicity was altering her voice was to adopt a huskier tone, one he had no doubt was reserved for lovers. He got agitated thinking of her with anyone else, though if you pressed him he wouldn't be able to give you a believable reason why. She also was affectionate; touching, leaning, _entwining_ herself with him. It was never excessive, it was in fact, Oliver's personal level of acceptable; it was an easy level of intimacy he'd enjoyed thoroughly in the past. He just...he was already was having trouble keeping Felicity out of the walls around his heart, out of his innermost fantasies. He did not need _memories_ to add to the fuel she provided just by being her.

Felicity was not faring any better. Oliver was being just as affectionate, and the lack of reservations only contributed to her already complicated feelings for him. It was too easy for her, she knew, to act the way she was with him. Felicity knew this because it was how she'd be if the gulf between them wasn't so wide, if her feelings weren't so one sided. _If she didn't lock these feelings away as she always had_. Felicity bit her lip, they were dancing now and she needed to concentrate. Preferably on something other than the feel of Oliver's very capable arms slightly tightening around her. _Again_. She didn't need yet another memory of those arms around her...

Oliver found himself tightening so much as to be in competition with his bow, his arms around her righting involuntarily. Felicity had been biting her lip all night in concentration. It was driving him crazy, he wanted to soothe her lips with his own. He wanted to rip that awful wig off her hair, because even if she wasn't a natural blonde the color was still her. He mentally shook himself. No, no you don't Oliver. She is off limits, you will ruin her and the success you have because of her. He tried shifting his concentration elsewhere in an effort to not lose control. This was too much closeness, which was completely unexpected.

That effort was working, Oliver thought. Until someone thought it amusing to leave all the mistletoe up and they got caught underneath it. The investor that was the root of their predicament urged them to follow tradition and kiss. Oliver and Felicity looked at each other, having the silent conversation only two people as closely connected as they were could. Oliver gathered Felicity even closer, and bent down to kiss her.

He would swear later that his world shifted beneath his feet. He would even admit that he was not prepared for the feeling of absolute rightness when they kissed. He would not admit that he was within milliseconds of blowing their op because he kept seeing flashes of Felicity's blonde hair spilling out onto his pillows as he spent time figuring out what brought her the most pleasure and if she genuinely was a blonde. He would also not admit that his itchy palms were working their way to her hair to free said blondeness and that Felicity pulled away as a result.

Felicity pulled away with a small gasp as she felt Oliver's hands creep towards her hair. She'll never know how she had enough sense to do that because oh, could he kiss. But they were acting, his true purpose tonight could not be discovered, and so it broke her heart to huskily say, "Later, my love," as she unwrapped herself from him. There would be no "later," for her and Oliver. The attraction/crush was one sided she knew, but she still wondered from time to time why not her.

Oliver's playboy mask made a quick comeback, and a mischievous smile appeared on his face. Their prey clearly believed the display (neither Oliver nor Felicity realized it was very obvious to onlookers there was chemistry between them), and Oliver was able to get an invitation for a more private discussion about "investments."

The time came for Oliver and Felicity to leave, which they were very happy to do. Both were concentrating on making sure that they acted normal to the other, completely unaware of the full reaction they'd stirred. Once away from the party, Felicity ripped the wig off and freed her hair so it was loose around her shoulders. Oliver stifled a groan as his imagination once again treated him to Felicity underneath him, writhing from his ministrations, arching into him...

"Those things are evil," Felicity hissed as she worked to get the knots out and get her hair into some semblance of order. _Focus on what she's saying, Oliver_, he thought. "_Don't do anything stupid_."

"I figured the contacts would be more a bother," he answered (thankfully) easily. It was an effort; never had he felt an so strong urge to thread his fingers though a woman's hair as he did now.

"Not fond of those either," Felicity murmured, "but they aren't as itchy."

"We're almost done for the night. We did it; Thompson offered an invite to further discuss things."

"Good. We'll get him, Oliver."

"I know." They finished the ride back in a relatively comfortable silence, even considering the preoccupation each had with their kiss. Back at the Foundry, they slipped into their normal routine, eventually parting for the night. Each pretending to the other that nothing had changed. The balance between them was so delicate; Felicity believed her love a one sided thing, while Oliver chose to think her safety was the reason he was pushing her away.

The problem with that, for Oliver, was the dreams. She was in every one. Some were bad- he'd never quite wiped the memory of the Count, landmine, bomb collar, or the Dollmaker away. Those are what he held onto as justification for not taking that risk. Most however...those were a crueler form of torture, he was starting to think. Oliver knew he had a decent imagination, but his dreams were beginning to make him think it was better than he ever gave it credit for. He was spending more and more mornings waking up hard, aching and reaching for _her_.

It didn't help that the touching never stopped, for either of them. If anything, it became more pronounced and thoughtless, in that it never occurred to Oliver or Felicity that they were even doing it. Oliver's dreams never let him forget, but he couldn't bring himself to end that. It was a comfort, one of very few he allowed himself. Still...he'd learned a lot of self control on the island, but he knew he was getting dangerously close to losing that self control when it came to Felicity.

The tension reached a boiling point when the wig and contacts had to make another appearance. Another recon mission, another disguise for Felicity because she would have to be alone. Oliver was waiting above, along the rooftops, in case anything went awry.

It was as he watched and listened that he realized why the wig and even the different colored contacts bothered him so much. His past was littered with brunettes, and to see Felicity mold herself (even if just for a mission) into that past simply did not fit what his life was now. Felicity was so much more; she was what kept him sane at the office, she'd covered for him when his two lives collided, she was a critical component of the Arrow team, she was his conscience forcing him to not only want to be, but actually be better. She wasn't part of his regrets or mistakes, instead she was a part of his present, his foreseeable future.

Things went well, for once, and Oliver followed Felicity back to the Foundry. She wasn't followed, so he went in after her. Digg left shortly after they had arrived to go home to Lyla, so for the first time in a long time they were alone with no prying eyes.

He watched Felicity free her hair before taking out her contacts. Again, he felt an incredible urge to be the one to do that, to get her hair back to it's normal state but he managed not to. Oliver settled instead for covertly watching her as she set whatever she normally did at night before heading home. He really shouldn't, he knows Felicity didn't realize the effect she had on him. She actually could be very graceful and even sensuous when she wasn't worried; moments like that only fed Oliver's imagination, and recently his certainly didn't need the help.

He notices the moment she realized they were alone. It was an ever so slight stiffening of her body, a quick bite of her lip (she really needed to _stop doing that_), a rush to let him know she'd see him in the morning. Later, when the whirlwind died down, he'd never be able to explain why it was the "see you in the morning" that drove him over the edge, but it was. His body and mind went to a much more primal, far less rational place as the images of Felicity under him, on top of him, _next to him in the morning_ crashed over him, destroying his tenuous hold on the last scrap of control stopping him from claiming her; he slipped into what Felicity had once called his predator mode. And like a true predator, he wasn't going to give her a chance to escape. Instead, Oliver told her to let him know when she got home, as he usually did. He then pulled out his PDA that Felicity had taught him how to use (he knew, but enjoyed her brushes against him as much as he enjoyed the exasperated way she said his name when he acted like he didn't understand), and rescheduled all of his meetings for later that day. He finally secured the Foundry, and headed straight to her house.

Once there, he debated on using the front door or her window. He decided on the window; he knows that she knows he checks on her, especially after she goes undercover, so she's likely to have left it unlocked for him. Besides, the front door was too unusual for him, he didn't want her guard up.

Felicity was waiting for him. Typical of Oliver, she thought, to check on her as though she would break or bolt. She hadn't yet, she doubted she ever would voluntarily. So she sat on her couch with a book, and waited for the window to slide open. When it did, she immediately felt the change in the air. It was more charged, electric. She noted it, but didn't dwell on it.

Felicity would think on that later, when she reflected back on when things changed. Oliver stood in front of her, looking rather determined. There was no logical reason for him to be looking at her that way, particularly at that hour, so she quirked her head a bit in silent question.

"Felicity?"

"Hmm?"

"It's later," was all he said before he used his entire body to lay claim to her. Felicity didn't have time to think, her body was on fire from being flush against Oliver as both his hands and mouth explored, so she just responded. He let out a growl as she explored his chest, back (those abs!), his shoulders.

They finally pulled apart for air, and Felicity took a step back. She knew that if they went any further, things would be irrevocably changed and she would not be able to continue with the Arrow if she was...temporary. Not willing to risk the good she did there for just a single night with Oliver, she asked,

"You letting me in, Oliver?"

"You're already in. I'm done fighting it. You've told me before your choices are yours, and I can't...I can't be without you. I tried."

Felicity caressed his face, trying to smooth the worry lines that had appeared.

"I was always yours for the asking Oliver. I just don't want...I'm not strong enough to be a temporary thing, or second choice to Laurel." Felicity reached up and kissed his cheek tenderly. "If you've truly made that choice, I'll be waiting for you there," she said, pointing to her room. "If you are not prepared for that or aren't sure, well. Tomorrow we go back to the way we were, and I'll keep giving you what you need. You'll just have to understand that while my...time belongs with you, eventually I'll find someone that I will be everything for." She closed the gap she'd opened between them. "Regardless of what you choose, Oliver, I'm not leaving you or what we do." With that, Felicity side stepped Oliver and began walking the most difficult 10 feet of her life.

Oliver stared after her a moment, wondering how she had managed to turn things on him so quickly. She did it often, and it was one of many things he loved about her. When that thought didn't fill him with panic, like Laurel did (and does, if he was honest), he knew. Thus it was with a feeling of calm rightness that he locked her window and followed Felicity into her room mere moments after she shut her door. They could figure out logistics later. Right now...right now he intended to find out if the adage blondes have more fun was really true or not.


End file.
